Katroo
by DotTheAmazing
Summary: A USUK fluff for my sister Wanna Be Alchemist's birthday. Totally pointless.


**A/N: This is a bit of fluff for my sister's birthday! HAPPY SWEET SIXTEEN, WANNA BE ALCHEMIST! I LOVE YOU! But feel free to read this USUK fluff anyways, even if you aren't my sister.**

**I do not own Dr. Suess or Hetalia.  
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><p>July 4, 1559 (morning)<p>

"England! England! You came!" A blond toddler with short hair and a pointy cowlick tackled his fuzzy-eyebrowed friend, who staggered backwards from the powerful blow.

"Of course I came over for my favorite colony's birthday!" The taller man bent down to ruffle his adopted brother's hair, grinning.

"YAY! Did you bring me a present?" America smiled hopefully, the perfect image of a five year old.

"Of course!" England reached into his bag, pulling out a wrapped box.

"What is it?" America ripped open the wrappings with a frenzy, stopping as soon as he saw what he was so eager to get. "Oh, a book."

England seemed almost indignant that his protectorate didn't appreciate his work. "But this is a special book! It was written just for you!"

"Really?" The young nation perked up. He loved gifts that England made himself, because it meant that nobody else would ever get anything like it.

"Yes. Just for you." He knew how much the handmade presents meant to his brother, and felt free to indulge him every once in a while.

"Cool! It better be good. I _am_ almost a hundred and fifty years old!" England's massive eyebrow twitched. He absolutely despised his charge's misuse of his language, but put up with it. After all, it was the child's birthday.

"Here, let's have lunch, then I'll read it to you." After all, one must have a proper three meals a day, even on one's birthday.

"Okay! Can you make me burgers?" He loved burgers, heaven knew why.

"No, America. I will not make you burgers." Being German, they were not one of England's favorite dishes.

"Aww." The kid's disappointed face was worth the deception.

"But we _can_ have hot dogs." The ecstatic face at the mention of his second-favorite food was twice as sweet.

"YAY! England, you're the best!" He hugged his older brother again, grinning widely.

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><p>July 4, 1559 (afternoon)<p>

"So, are you going to read me that book?" The lunch had been finished, and his short attention span had returned to the gift.

"Of course! Let's begin." He pulled the book off of the table America had put it on during lunch, and pulled the birthday boy onto his lap.

"I can read the title! 'Happy Birthday To You', by Arthur Kirkland. That's you!" His childlike joy was priceless, and England almost felt guilty for how cheerful the boy was.

"Yes, it is. Now, pay attention." And he began to read.

_I wish we could do what they do in Katroo._

_They sure know how to say "Happy Birthday to You!"_

"England, who's Katroo?" The young nation had hardly met any countries except for England, France, and Canada. And the Nordics, but he hardly remembered them.

"It's made up. Now, pay attention." He resumed reading, finishing the first page.

_In Katroo, every year, on the day you were born_

_They start the day right in the bright early morn_

_When the Birthday Honk-Honker hikes high up Mt. Zorn_

_And lets loose a big blast on the big Birthday Horn._

_And the voice of the horn calls out loud as it plays:_

_"Wake up! For today is your Day of all Days!"_

And so they continued, with America laughing in all of the right places, and England getting stuck on some of the tongue twisters, until they reached the end.

_So that's_

_What the Birthday Bird_

_Does in Katroo._

_And I wish_

_I could do_

_All these great things for _**_you!_**

England picked up the now napping America, carrying him to his room and tucking him in.

"Happy Birthday, America."

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><p>December 1, 1958<p>

"Let me get this straight. You want me to rewrite this book, and publish it as my own?" He seemed scandalized that he was being asked to plagiarize another's work.

"Yes, Mr. Geisel. You'll find that it's perfectly within copyright laws. It is almost five hundred years old." The man's eyes bugged wide in shock.

"Five hundred? But you said you made it as a birthday present!" Arthur didn't want to explain, so he kept his answers short and to the point.

"That I did."

"But you're-" Appearance: twenties. Age: over one thousand.

"Not going to answer any of these questions." Better he not know. Authors could publish some incredibly odd things about the truth.

"Y- yes sir. I'll have this done by March." He knew not who this stranger was, only that he was important. Best to finish this fast.

"No. Can you publish it on Independence Day?" What an odd request! Why then?

"Of course. But, don't you want it done as soon as possible?"

"I want it done well. If it takes until the third, then so be it. But I want the first edition released on the fourth. It's- a present." A present? Couldn't it just be released prior, then bought and given?

"For who?" Then again, maybe they'd get it before hand...

"Think about it." July fourth. Independence Day. Oh, God. The man with a British accent glared at him, and it all made too much sense.

"...I'm not asking more questions, sir."

"Good man." He turned and left, leaving behind a contract that left all rights to Theodore Geisel, and omitting Arthur Kirkland from all legal records.

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><p>July 4, 1959<p>

"Hey England! What are you getting America for his birthday this year?" England sighed. The quasi-country was always asking impertinent questions.

"Sealand, I won't tell you. If I do, you'll tell him." It had happened before.

"Then I'll just open the box before he can!" That had happened too.

"You can't." That had been tried.

"I can too!" It had failed.

"You don't know this, because you're not a fully-fledged nation, but we get every single book ever published by one of our authors. It arrives outside our door in the morning, sent by the publisher. I had a special note put into a book that I had published for America. That's his present." The look on Sealand's disappointed face was sweet.

"A book? That's so boring! What are you getting me for my birthday?" Why was this sounding familiar?

"I'm not telling you." Oh. This had happened before, too.

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><p>July 4, 1959 (morning)<p>

America woke up early. After all, it was his birthday! There was celebrating to be done! Fireworks and parades and candy and parties and fireworks and-

He opened his door, ready to have an awesome day, and noticed the small box on the floor. Picking it up, he knew that it was another book. He was going to have to get some more shelves soon! Opening the box, he froze.

"Happy Birthday to You." It was almost a whisper. How? Who did this? Doctor Seuss, according to the cover, but where did he-

There was a note written on the inside cover. _"And I wish I could do all these great things for **you**."  
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><p>July 4, 1959 (morning)<p>

Canada was confused that America hadn't called him over to celebrate his birthday yet. Usually, he was ignored by everyone, but America left nobody out on his birthday, if only to have the wildest party imaginable. Worried, he crossed the border, determined to check up on America.

"Alfred? Are you here? Alfred?" He found him in his room, fully dressed, lying in bed. Upon closer inspection, he was clutching a book.

"Happy Birthday to You? That sounds like a kids' book. America? America! Wake up!" He pokes and shoved the unusually calm nation until he awoke.

"Huh? Oh, hey, Canada."

"Why are you asleep? It's your birthday!" He knew he would regret giving America what was basically an open invitation to party, but it would be better than a catatonic brother.

"Just- remembered something. But you're right! I'll grab my bag, and then it's time to PARTY! WOOT!" He thought his twin didn't notice, but Canada could tell that the entire day, the book never left America's bag. He now remembered that England gave him a nearly identical book exactly four hundred years ago.

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><p><strong>AN: Wow. This got long. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIS! The italics are actual lines from the book. If it's cheesy, it's because I wrote this while eating cheese. Which tastes AWESOME.** **Go Mars Cheese Castle! And my randomness must now sleep.**


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